Keep Calm and Carry On
by Stalk Me
Summary: Hermione Granger is as good as dead. Too bad she's still alive. Fred Weasley is the Reaper who's assigned to convince Hermione to cross over. Can he convince her to stay in the after life, or will she choose to live instead?
1. Chapter 1

**Keep Calm and** **Carry On**

 _Chapter One_

Hermione Granger sits in one of the overstuffed armchairs in the Gryffindor common room; her Transfiguration text book lays open, but forgotten, in her lap. After fighting a war, her seventh year at Hogwarts is a breeze. As Head Girl, she still has the top grades in her class; however, her education has taken a backseat to her future aspirations. While her Transfiguration homework collects dust on her lap, she focuses all of her attention on a pamphlet in her hand that details Wizarding law.

"It is illegal for any witch or wizard to charm a goat," she reads aloud.

"Better not mention that to Aberforth."

Hermione turns in her chair to see Ron enter through one of the common room windows.

"How in Merlin's name did you…?"

"I'm a big, bad Auror now, love," Ron says as he strides over to her. He leans down and places a quick kiss on her lips. "Why enter a building the normal way when you can fly a broom to the roof and climb in through a window?"

Hermione rolls her eyes. "You're not an Auror yet."

"Better not mention that to Harry."

"Too late, I already heard." Hermione glances at the window again to see Harry climbing in. He lands easily on his feet and runs his hands through his hair, a grin on his face, obviously pleased with his feat. "Hello, Hermione," he says.

"Hello," Hermione replies. "Wait." She narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Are you two here for a snog?"

"That would be nice," Ron replies, "but Harry would just get in the way. Unless…you're into that sort of thing?"

Hermione rolls her eyes again and Harry nudges Ron with his shoulder. "I wouldn't be snogging you," he says. His eyes glance towards the girl's dormitory. "Ginny's asleep?"

"Yes. She went up about an hour ago."

"And she's going to stay there," Ron says pointedly. "Safe and sound in her bed. In her Harry-less bed," he adds.

"Ron, Harry has every right to want to snog his girlfriend." Hermione sets her textbook and law pamphlet down and stands from her chair. "Do you want me to go wake her?" she asks Harry.

Harry sends one last look at the girl's dormitory, then shakes his head. "No. Believe it or not, Hermione, Ron and I didn't actually come here to snog our girlfriends."

"Then you're here because…?"

Harry glances at Ron, who nods. Then he pulls a piece of parchment out of his back pocket and hands it to Hermione. The words 'Top Secret' catch Hermione's attention and she groans in spite of herself.

"Where did you two get this?"

"No need to bore you with the details."

"You stole it, didn't you?"

"We'll give it back!"

Hermione groans again. "You two are going to get kicked out of the academy."

"They won't kick us out; they love us."

Hermione's lips pull into a smile, and she begins to read the parchment. "Wait," she says after a minute. "This is the whereabouts of the last few Death Eaters!"

"Told you she'd be interested," Ron tells Harry. He turns back to Hermione, grinning. "Everyone but the Malfoys are hiding out in the same location. We have no intention of going after the Malfoys, of course, but the others…"

Hermione glances up from the parchment and looks at her two best friends. "You'll be outnumbered," she states.

"We thought we'd add one more to our group," Harry grins.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Ron counters.

"No, I want to," Hermione says. She hands the parchment back to Harry. "Just give me a minute to change clothes. There's no way I can fight Death Eaters in my pajamas." She turns and heads toward the girl's dormitories.

"And don't wake Ginny!" Ron calls after her.

However, Hermione finds Ginny already awake in their dormitory. The redheaded girl sits cross-legged on her bed, Potions textbook in her lap as she scribbles an essay furiously.

"You're up late," Hermione remarks. She heads over to her trunk and pops it open, searching for jeans and a T-shirt.

"Forgot this was due tomorrow," Ginny replies. "Why are you changing?"

"Harry and Ron will kill me if I tell you."

"Then you better tell me."

Hermione pulls her jeans on and then rummages through her trunk for a bra. "They found the whereabouts of the last Death Eaters. We're going to…unofficially arrest them, I guess, seeing as neither Harry nor Ron are official Aurors yet, and you and I are just students."

Hermione glances up from her trunk to see that Ginny is also changing out of her pajamas. The Weasley girl pulls her hair into a ponytail and grins at Hermione. "You know me so well," she says. "Come on."

The girls leave their dormitory and descend the stairs to the common room. The boys are waiting on brooms outside of the window. Ron groans when he sees Ginny.

"I said don't wake her," he whines.

"Too bad, big brother of mine," Ginny says as she gets on Harry's broom. Hermione follows suite and wraps her arms around Ron's chest.

"Ginny, you do realize that if you die, Mum will kill me, don't you?" Ron asks.

"Of course," Ginny replies. Harry is flying ahead of them, and Ginny has to turn her head to send Ron a large grin. "Don't worry, Ron. If I die, I'll let Fred know that we'll be expecting you any minute."

* * *

Fred Weasley is grinning over his cards. Across from him, Sirius Black returns the smirk.

"You have a horrible poker face, Weasley," Sirius comments.

Fred merely shrugs as the others around the table laugh. James and Remus had folded, and they now sip their beers as Sirius and Fred duke it out.

"I take it your grin means you have good cards," Sirius continues.

"Maybe."

"Well, be ready to lose that smile, Weasley." Sirius lays his cards down. "Straight flush. Seven through Jack. Diamonds."

Fred nods as if he's impressed. "Not bad, Sirius. But before you collect your winnings, you should take a look at my royal flush!" He laughs as Sirius' face falls.

"I can't lose," Sirius says. "I'm the master at poker!"

"Well, I'm sorry, Sirius, but it looks like I'm the master now."

"You are not! Everyone knows that I'm the best!"

"Not anymore."

"You little punk, I should…"

"Sirius, settle down. We all know that you both charm the cards anyway." James grins.

"Do not," Sirius protests.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, James," Fred agrees.

"You both have the ten of diamonds," Remus points out.

"And if I remember correctly," James adds. He picks up his discarded pile of cards. "Yep! I had one too. I'm guessing this is the real ten of diamonds."

James and Remus laugh as Sirius and Fred feign sheepishness. Finally Sirius grins and offers Fred another beer. Fred accepts it and twists the cap off, bringing the bottle to his lips.

He hadn't accepted his death initially. For the first few weeks of his afterlife, Fred spent his time lying in bed, contemplating the decades he'd have to spend without his family…without his twin. But now, he admits that it's not so bad. When he's with good company, and the windows are open, letting in the night air and the scent of the flowers in Lily's garden, he's almost completely content. Almost.

The electronic beeping of a cell phone fills the air, and James, Sirius and Remus immediately reach for their phones. The electronic gadgets were useless to them when they were alive, but it's a requirement to carry one in the afterlife.

"Not mine," James says.

"Nope," Sirius agrees.

Remus shakes his head, and Fred starts to reach into his pocket for his own phone. "Must be Colin calling to ask about pick up lines again," he says, but his face falls when he sees the caller ID.

"Hello?" he answers.

"Fred Weasley, you are being summoned. Report to the Reaper Headquarters immediately."

Fred lowers the phone and for the first time in his afterlife, he feels sick.

"What is it?" Remus asks.

"I'm being summoned," Fred repeats. "I need to report to the Reaper Headquarters immediately."

The other three men grow pale. "Who do you know who's old enough to die?" Sirius asks.

"No one."

Fred stands and walks away from the table. He's so nervous that he nearly trips over his own feet.

"Fred," James calls after him.

Fred turns and stares at James, who looks so much like Harry.

"Stay calm," James tells him. "Whoever it is, they'll be needing you to be strong."

Fred nods, then turns on the spot and Apparates to just outside of the Reaping Headquarters. Even at the late hour, the building is illuminated and busy. A steady stream of people, Wizard and Muggle alike, enter the building and a steady stream leave it in pairs.

"It's okay," a woman says to a teenage girl as they leave the building. "I promise it's not so bad here. You won't even miss living."

Fred swallows and enters the building. He hasn't been here since his own Reaping, and he feels dizzy under the glare of the florescent lights.

There's a long line of people waiting to approach the desk and receive their Reaping assignment, and Fred gets in line behind a portly older man.

The older man gives him a disinterested glance. "First Reaping assignment?" he asks. His accent is American and the lack of wand poking out of his pocket tells Fred that he's probably Muggle.

"How can you tell?"

"You look like you're about to be sick."

"Don't worry; I promise I won't be. I'm almost one hundred percent certain I won't be. Like ninety five percent certain. No, more like, ninety three point two percent. "

The man gives a slight smile. "The first one's always the hardest. It gets easier after that."

"How many Reapings have you done?"

"This is my fifth. My living friends are in their eighties. Dropping like flies these days."

The man steps forward to receive his assignment, and Fred takes a few moments to try to calm his stomach. It's a useless effort, however, seeing as it's still churning when he approaches the desk.

"Weasley, Frederick," the girl behind the desk says. She keys in his name on the screen in front of her and her brow wrinkles. "You've got a special assignment. You'll need to visit with the boss before going. Follow me, please." She stands and leads Fred down a long hallway.

"Special assignment?" Fred asks as he follows her. "Do you know who it is? One of my brothers? My little sister?"

The girl says nothing as she stops at a set of large doors. She opens one and indicates that Fred should enter.

"Go on then," she says. "It's best not to keep him waiting."

Fred enters the room and is shocked that it isn't lit with florescent lights. If anything, it looks like a room that could have been at Hogwarts. It has stone walls lined with bookshelves and a fireplace with a fire roaring the in the grate. On the opposite side of the room is a large mahogany desk. A man dressed in a black suit with a red tie sits behind the desk and beckons Fred forward. The man's slicked back hair is still black and he has no physical signs of old age, but Fred gets the feeling that he's ancient.

"And you are?" the man asks.

"Fred Weasley."

"Hello, Fred Weasley. I'm Death." The man says it calmly, his hands folded on top of his desk.

Fred wants to make a joke to lighten the mood, but he swallows it and nods instead. Considering what he's about to do, he figures he really shouldn't be annoying Death.

"This is your first Reaping," Death says. It isn't a question, but Fred finds himself nodding anyway. "The first one's always the hardest."

"So I hear."

A corner of Death's lips curl upward. "Yours is particularly difficult. I am sorry that this has to be your first assignment. Indeed, if I could give this assignment to a more seasoned Reaper, I would. But you know the rules…"

"The living must be Reaped by their closest deceased acquaintance," Fred states. It's this particular rule that has Fred sick to his stomach. The only ones he knows who are close enough to him to have him as a Reaper are his family members. Harry would pick Sirius, and Fred doesn't know anyone else who's either old enough or reckless enough to die.

"Quite right," Death replies. He pauses for a moment and scrutinizes Fred. "Some Reapings are quick," Death continues. "If a human gets shot in the head or hit with the Avada Kedavra curse, they die almost instantly and their soul falls into the awaiting arms of their Reaper. Illness is a bit tricky, but in most cases the Reaper doesn't have to show up until the very end."

"Then what's so special about my case?" Fred asks.

"Well, she's in a coma, for one."

 _She._ "Ginny," Fred whispers. He realizes that it could just as easily be his mother; however, he feels in his gut that it's Ginny. It would be easier for him to Reap his mother, who has lived a full life, as opposed to his younger sister, who isn't even out of school yet.

"And her illness is a complicated one. There's a fifty percent chance that she'll die. Of course that means that there's a fifty percent chance that she'll live. She'll exist in a state of limbo until she decides what she wants to do."

"She gets to decide?"

"Oh yes. And that's where you come in. As a Reaper, it's your job to convince her to die."

Fred shakes his head vehemently. "I can't."

Death smiles. "Oh, I think you'll find that you have no other choice. You'll go to Earth to collect her soul and bring it back here. Her body will stay alive on Earth until she makes her decision. For the time being, you won't tell her that she has a say in this. Make her believe that she is truly dead. We like to give them a taste of the afterlife before we make them choose."

Fred feels his jaw tighten with anger. He considers himself to be many things – and not all of them admirable – however, he has always taken pride in being honest. At least for important things.

Death eyes him suspiciously from across the desk. "Do we have an understanding, Mr. Weasley?"

Fred wants to tell Death to take this Reaping assignment and stick it where the sun don't shine. He wants to make a rude hand gesture. He wants to fall to his knees and beg not to have him do this to his little sister. Instead, he nods.

"Yes. I understand."

"And you'll carry out your assignment as instructed?"

Fred nods.

"Good," Death says. "Off you go." Behind him the fire in the grate glows green. "You're a wizard, so I trust you're not going to go spastic when I ask you to step into the flames."

Fred walks over to the fire, stepping into it and turning around to face Death with a glare. Somewhere above him, an automated voice says, "Ten seconds to deployment." Like so many things in the afterlife, the fireplace is an odd mix of magic and technology.

"Oh, and by the way," Death adds, just as Fred is starting to feel the pull of the flames. "The girl you're Reaping is Hermione Granger."

Fred opens his mouth to exclaim his shock, but he only gets a mouthful of soot as he's pulled under.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This story has been sitting on my laptop for literally years. I've got a couple other chapters written, so if you guys like it, let me know, and I'll continue it. If not, I'll post what I have and then leave it be (at least until I feel like writing it again). It's been a long, long while since I've written anything for Harry Potter. But HP was my first fandom, so writing it feels like I"m returning to my roots.


	2. Chapter 2

**Keep Calm & ****Carry On**

 _Chapter Two_

Hermione opens her eyes and sees the sky above her. It's late dusk, her favorite time of day. The stars are out and most of the sky is a deep indigo except for a line of gray that stains the western horizon. Within a half an hour, that last bit of light will be gone and it'll be night. She sighs and sits up, wondering where she is. Long grass and wild flowers surround her, and when she turns to look behind herself, she sees the Burrow.

"How the bloody hell did I get here?" she whispers.

She remembers leaving Hogwarts to fight Death Eaters, but that's as far as her memory takes her. She does not know if they found the Death Eaters, and she definitely does not know why the boys decided to bring her here instead of back to Hogwarts.

"Ron probably stole me away to have a snog later," she tells herself. Sighing, she stands and begins to brush the dirt and grass off of her jeans.

"Hermione?"

She turns and sees a red-headed man walking towards her. She smiles warmly. "Hello, George," she greets.

The figure pauses for a moment before continuing forward. As he draws nearer, Hermione can see that George looks much different than what he did a few months ago. When she saw him at Christmas, he was far too skinny, too pale, and his hair too long. His hair's cut short now, and he looks as though he's finally eating properly again. Hermione's smile widens.

"Are you alright?" George asks when he finally reaches her.

"Well, I'm a little bit dazed, actually. I haven't got a clue as to how I got here."

"You don't?"

"No. The last thing I remember is Harry and Ron coming to Hogwarts and asking me to fight Death Eaters with them. I remember leaving the castle, but nothing after that. I just…woke up here. Strange, isn't it?"

George bites his lip thoughtfully and nods. He glances behind himself at the illuminated Burrow in the distance. "I guess we have no choice but to go inside."

He looks so reluctant to enter the house that Hermione takes his arm. While he appears to be doing better overall, he also seems to be having an off day. And with the anniversary of Fred's death right around the corner, Hermione doesn't blame him.

"We don't have to go in right away," she says. "How about we take a walk around the garden?"

George nods, and Hermione leads him forward. For a few moments, they're both quiet. George looks thoughtful as he stares at his feet.

"You're looking better than you did at Christmas," Hermione comments.

He looks up, his eyes slightly alarmed. "I do?"

"Yes." When George continues to look alarmed, she continues: "Oh come on, George, you know you weren't doing well then. You hardly ate anything and the only one who could get you out of your bedroom was Angelina."

"Angie?"

"Yes. You two were quite close at Christmas. …Are you fighting with her?"

George takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I hope not," he says at last.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later. Right now I want to talk to you about…" he breaks off. There's a moment's pause as he contemplates his words. "Are you familiar with The Tale of the Three Brothers?"

Hermione lets an incredulous laugh escape her lips. "The Deathly Hallows? Of course. They kind of consumed a whole year of my life."

"Right. Well, then you remember how the story ends?"

She shrugs. "The brothers die."

"That's right. Even the youngest one couldn't run from death forever."

"George, what are you…?"

"We all die. Some of us earlier than we would like."

She touches his arm again. "Fred is in a better place." The words sound cliché, even to her; however, she doesn't know what else she can say to comfort him.

"Yes, he is," George continues. "But I'm not talking about Fred."

"Then who…?"

"You must remember something about fighting those Death Eaters, Hermione."

"I don't."

"Try. Just close your eyes and try to remember."

Hermione shakes her head in confusion.

"Please, Hermione."

She stares at him for a moment and takes in how serious he is. "Okay," she agrees. She closes her eyes but sees nothing but black.

"You said you remember leaving the castle. Which direction did you head in?"

"We flew to Hogsmeade. The boys stashed their brooms and then we Apparated to a clearing in the English countryside where the Death Eaters were supposed to be hiding out."

She sees it clearly now. The clearing, so peaceful at that time of night. And the run-down cabin that stood in it.

"Were the Death Eaters there?"

The cabin doors open and she sees five or so Death Eaters run out with their wands raised. Manic looks are in their eyes.

"Yes."

"Did any of them look ill?"

"I suppose so. They've been in hiding for almost a year."

"Hermione, this is important. Think! Were any of them sick?"

In her memory, she sees a woman. She must have been beautiful at one point in time, but at that moment, she's covered with sores and is so thin that her skin appears to hang off of her bones.

"There was at least one woman who was seriously ill," Hermione elaborates.

"Did you fight her?"

"Yes."

"Was there blood?"

"Yes."

"Did you get any on you?"

Hermione opens her eyes and glares at George. "What does it matter? I'm okay now, aren't I?"

George bites his lip again and glances at the house. "It's time for us to go in," he says, taking her hand and leading her through the back door. They pass Mr. and Mrs. Weasley talking softly over cups of tea in the kitchen, and George does not stop to say hi to them. His grip on her hand is tight as he leads her up the stairs.

"Dying may be painful, but death itself isn't," he tells her.

"George, you're talking nonsense."

They reach the second landing. Ginny's bedroom door is open, and her light's on. Ron and Harry hover over Ginny's bed. They look as though they have the weight of the world on their shoulders. Hermione glances at them and then back to George questioningly.

"Some people don't even realize they're dead until after the fact," he says. "Go into the room, Hermione. You need to see this."

She stares at him for a moment longer. "George?"

He jerks his head towards the bedroom, and Hermione turns and enters it slowly. There's a young woman in Ginny's bed, but Hermione doesn't recognize her. She's deathly pale, sores cover her skin, and blood stains her mouth. It's only when Hermione sees her own wand on the nightstand that she realizes that she's staring at herself. She gasps and glances back at the doorway. The red-headed man, who no longer looks like the George she knows, is standing somberly with his hands in his pockets.

"You keep calling me George, Hermione," he says at last.

"Fred?" she asks.

"'Fraid so. They sent me to come get you."

Hermione shakes her head and turns away from him. She tries to reach out for Ron, but her hand goes right through his shoulder. He doesn't notice. Doesn't even shiver. She is less than a ghost.

"I know it's hard, Hermione. Trust me, I didn't want to leave either."

She turns back to Fred, who reaches his hand out to her. He no longer looks solid; she can see the wall and door behind him, and a gold light appears to emanate from him as well.

"You know you can't stay here, Hermione."

She takes one last look at her dying body and her friends who flank it. She doesn't want to leave, but she knows that if she doesn't go with Fred, then she will turn into a ghost. A ghost who has no choice but to haunt the Burrow for all eternity. She would get to see Ron for the rest of his life, but then he'll die and she'll be alone. Better to wait for Ron elsewhere.

She turns back to Fred, who still holds his hand out to her. The golden light is more brilliant now, and Fred appears as though he's standing in an invisible squall; his hair and clothes whip around him, though Hermione herself feels no wind.

"Hermione…you _have_ to take my hand," he says.

She nods and reaches out to him. His grip is strong, and as soon as they touch, the golden light expands to include Hermione. She feels her own hair and clothes whip around her as a force greater than herself tries to rip her away from the only world she's known.

Fred steps closer to her until their chests touch. She grabs fistfuls of his T-shirt, and he let's go of her hand, moving his own to wrap around her waist, steadying her. His free hand brushes her cheek. She looks up at him and knows that he can see the tears in her eyes.

"You can cry, Hermione," he says. "I'll never tease you about it."

Despite his promise, Hermione buries her face in his T-shirt so that he does not see the tears that spill over onto her cheeks. She doesn't see the room disappear, but she feels herself get pulled from it. A moment later her feet are back on solid ground and she hears a ding that reminds her of an elevator. And then an electronic voice sounds:

"Hermione Jean Granger. United Kingdom resident. Witch. Age nineteen. Welcome to the After Life."


End file.
